Playing With Fire
by kleepalmer
Summary: Isabella is an aspiring novelist; Mr. Cullen is a famous Seattle book publisher. It is fate that brings them together, but will fate turn the other cheek when Mr. Cullen's business and personal life are destroyed completely? Rated M for lemons galore!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**A/N: This is an abridged version of a scene that will come into play at around chapter 17-20 of this story. Enjoy!**

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His arms were tucked under me as he pressed his lips to mine, causing a sea of goosebumps to erupt on my sensitive skin. We were tangled in my bed, the world forgotten as we pressed our bodies together impossibly tighter. His breathless moans were all I could hear; they caressed every part of me like the softest feather.

"Edward…," I moaned, dragging my tongue across the light stubble on his sharp jaw line.

His body tensed when he heard his name fall from my swollen red lips and I felt his cock twitch against my aching center. Ever so carefully, Edward's fingers curled under me and I felt his nails softly being pulled across the skin of my back. I arched into him and a groan escaped the back of my throat. Edward's cock twitched again, and this time I couldn't take it any longer.

"Fuck me," I whispered with my lips pressed to his neck. "I _need_ you," I decided.

Edward shivered as a chill spiked his boiling blood, and suddenly his hands were everywhere. They were lightly tugging at my hair, cupping my breast, travelling down every inch of my white-hot skin. I needed him, I craved him. I would die without this man hovering above me. And then he pressed his cock into me, and the sound that left my lips didn't even sound human. It was all primordial need, lust, _love_. It was everything. Everything I'd ever needed was here in this moment as Edward made love to me with everything he had.

And then a shrill ringing made us both jump in surprise.

"_Fuck_!" Edward yelled, continuing to move inside of me as I moaned beneath him.

"Who could that be? Why is someone calling you at 2am?" I panted.

Edward fumed. "It's not important," he assured me. "It's probably just Jasper trying to fuck with me."

Edward pushed into me even harder now, making my head spin uncontrollably. But I couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that fell over me as I listened to his phone ring and ring. It was unsettling and was really killing my buzz.

"It could be important…" I offered. "Maybe there's something wrong. That's, like, the fifteenth ring."

Edward huffed out an annoyed breath, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was concerned, too.

Edward reluctantly pulled away from me and rolled to the other side of my bed. He reached around blindly for his cell phone, muttering unintelligible words under his breath. Finally he found his cell phone, still blaring that obnoxious, annoying ringer, and answered it. "What the _fuck _do you want, Jasper?" Edward growled into the speaker.

I could faintly hear Jasper on the other end of the phone. His voice was much higher than normal, a sign of distress if I'd ever heard one. He was yelling and I could have sworn I heard sirens in the background.

I was right. It _was_ sirens; I could tell by the way Edward's face suddenly went from furious to completely and utterly blank. Void of emotion. Nothingness. I sat up, pulling the covers over my naked body. I moved over next to Edward and grabbed his arm.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

Nothing.

Silence.

I grabbed the phone out of Edward's hand and yelled, "Jasper, tell me what's going on _right now_!"

At first I could only hear the wailing sirens and the sound of Jasper's hacking, rough coughs. Then I heard it.

A sickening crack.

Then the sound of Jasper's phone crashing to the ground.

Finally, faintly, barely even audible, Jasper's slack voice reached my ears.

"Fire."

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**A/N: So, how was it? :) Chapter 1 entitled "First Impressions" will be added very soon! Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 1: First Impressions

"_**Love is the smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers eyes." - William Shakespeare**_

_**Full Summary**: Bella Swan has been writing an untold story in her head since she was a child, only finally bringing it to life at the age of eighteen. Now, four years later, Bella's manuscript is placed in the sought-after hands of Mr. E. A. Cullen, a highly-regarded book publisher in Seattle. After countless late nights at the office and not-so-subtle advances made by Mr. Cullen himself, love blossoms… only to be ripped to shreds when Mr. Cullen's business and personal life is destroyed and he is forced to relocate. _

_Will Bella and Edward make the essential decision that will hold their burning flame, or will distance and the death of a dear friend finally crack Mr. Cullen and render him incapable of loving at all?_

_Slightly OOC, AU, AH._

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**BPOV**

Rain is a typical occurrence on a Monday afternoon in Seattle. No matter what plans you may have for the day, rain is always bound to get in the way. Today was no different.

_Today_.

Of all _fucking _days…

I stared forlornly out my apartment window, down at the tiny-looking people walking the disgusting, slick streets. I inwardly cursed the rain that had decided to ruin my entire day and stomped back to my laptop, red-faced and fuming. I sat down and rested my hands on the keys, willing something creative and witty to come to mind as I stared at the pitch I'd typed up two weeks ago.

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath when my mind drew blanks on how to make myself sound witty and endearingly clever.

I stumbled through a few more sentences, deciding that wit and cleverness wasn't needed when I could just make myself sound smart by punching in big words that didn't really make all that much sense. I reread my newly typed sentences, highlighted them and then pressed the 'delete' button, shoving away from the stupid, pretty desk I'd bought that was supposed to "improve a person's writing with its sleek, modern style."

_Bullshit_, I thought bitterly.

I paced down the hallway a few times before I caught a glance at the time on the obnoxiously large clock on my dining room wall. Ten-thirty already. I huffed out an irritated breath, gathered up my laptop and the much-needed umbrella, checked my makeup in the mirror once more, and then slammed the door too hard behind me.

*

I trudged through the sloshy, rainy streets of Seattle with my laptop case in on hand and the oversized umbrella in the other. The streets were mostly desolate with next to no one braving the stinging cold, which was good for me, because that meant one less irritation I had to deal with for once. I swatted blowing, wet tendrils of hair out of my face and cringed as a gust of wind blew freezing rain droplets into my raw, red face. _Just two more blocks,_ I told myself, and willed my legs to move faster.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I pushed open the doors to _Cullen Enterprises_, being very meticulous as I went about wiping my rain-soaked shoes on the mat just inside the doors; no way was I going to ruin this day by fucking up the pristine white carpet with my muddy heels. Once they were sufficiently free of mud, I made my way to the reception desk. A middle-aged woman with the name Gianna printed on her nametag greeted me with a tense, obviously-fake smile.

"Name," she said flatly, staring at her computer screen with her hands waiting impatiently on the keyboard, utterly bored.

"Swan," I huffed, suddenly out of breath. "Isabella Swan," I clarified. I mentally kicked myself for introducing myself like I was James fucking Bond. Gianna gave me a bemused look and went back to checking her computer for my appointment. I brushed my hands over my skirt and adjusted my stupid ruffled blouse as her brows knitted together and she looked up at me, confusion all over her chubby face.

"You have an appointment with Mr. Cullen directly?" she asked doubtfully, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I knew it was pretty unbelievable that I'd managed an interview with Mr. Cullen, but I couldn't help being a little pissed at her for being so damn incredulous. The infamous Mr. Cullen was nearly impossible to set up an appointment with. He was highly esteemed in his profession and only the best got to meet with him face-to-face. My agent and one of my best friends, Rosalie, must have sent in an especially convincing letter -- since my theory about magical interview fairies got shot down by Alice immediately -- because I got a call from his office just days after she'd mailed it.

Book publishing had become a big business in Seattle since Mr. Cullen moved his business here three years ago, though I wasn't sure if herds of writers flocked to his offices because of his talent or his face. He was, apparently, "the hottest guy in the _world_," according to my roommate, Alice. But I really didn't have the time too look at his supposed pretty face. His numbers were stellar and he had a well-established business -- that's all I could care about when it came to publishers. If he had a pretty face, well… that'd just be a nice backdrop for my budding career as a famous author.

I had started writing my novel when I was just eighteen years old, a recent high school graduate with no acceptance letters from any prestigious colleges or even the inkling of a job waiting for me. I had no plans and I had nobody holding me back from doing exactly what I wanted to do -- which was to write the world's next great teen novel that the masses would flock to. I worked relentlessly, spending countless nights in front of my laptop and consuming far too much coffee than was healthy. But finally, after four years, my novel was finished, and I was completely happy with everything I'd written, which was a big step for someone who can't even decide what pyjamas to wear at night.

The tale I'd woven in my novel was a complicated one. It was a small story about three adolescent kids in New York City who found a magical notebook that was able to predict all of their futures. The kids fought for the notebook, as only one of them could fully possess it to hear their future, which eventually tore them apart. It was a tale of fantasy and heartache, of friendship and heartbreak, and it was like a child to me. I was so attached to the characters I'd created that I found myself beginning to treat them like they were a part of my family. Some days I wondered if I'd officially gone crazy, but I pushed those questions to the side when I'd decided I'd lost my mind long ago.

Once I had plenty of drafts of my story made, I knew that the only thing left to do was to find somebody who believed in it just as much as I did. Getting a book published was hard work, I knew; I was fully-prepared for people to tell me I was nuts. But what I hadn't been expecting was how harsh all of the rejection would feel. I'd spent so many nights staying up until much past five o'clock in the morning reworking sentences and plot lines, fixing minor mistakes like comma placement and the occasional misuse of the word "then." I was obsessed with making everything about my novel perfect, and when I was finally completely and totally happy with the outcome, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Rosalie and I took my final drafts of the novel to more publishing companies than I care to remember, each and every time being turned down by the big-wigs in streamlined black suits. It was intimidating, and I knew I wouldn't be taken seriously. I was a short, pubescent-looking girl with big brown eyes and a fucked up equilibrium -- no way was I going to impress these people, even with Rose by my side, looking like the beautiful epitome of grace and intelligence. I was right, and every one of the publishers I met with waved me off like I wasn't worth a second glace.

But, no matter what those publishers thought about me, I believed in my work, and I knew that if I tried hard enough, and got someone, _anyone_, to really take a look at what I'd written, I'd finally hear a 'yes,' and my novel would finally get published. That is the only reason why I sent a letter into Cullen Enterprises. It was my last ditch effort for getting published, and I prayed to the Book Gods that it was finally my turn.

I was brought back to the present when Gianna cleared her throat, sounding irritated and forever impatient. I wanted to tell her to relax.

"Um, yes," I stammered to Gianna, chewing on my bottom lip nervously. "He's still open for the appointment, right?" I found myself getting jumpy and my palms started to sweat.

Gianna tapped her too-long fingernails on the desk twice and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She nodded minutely and muttered a less-than-friendly, "Of course," before directing me to take a seat on the comfortable-looking chairs to her right. I pulled my laptop case higher on my shoulder and shuffled over to the chairs. But before I got the chance to sit down, a young, blonde man with a thin, attractive face stepped around the corner of Gianna's desk, clipboard in hand.

He scanned the nearly empty waiting room -- it was just me and two uptight business men waiting -- until his eyes landed on me. "Isabella Swan?" he called, his eyes warm and his tone much friendlier than Gianna's.

He led me through two sets of beautiful glass doors, and I almost had to stop to admire the beautiful artwork that hung on the mahogany walls on the other side of them. The entire establishment was adorned with beautiful artwork and I couldn't stop myself from being completely impressed by the décor. I almost said it out loud, but since Blondie obviously wasn't in a very talkative mood, I kept my awe all to myself. Suddenly, without even realizing it, Blondie and I were crammed into an elevator with about fifteen stressed-out, uptight people with stacks of papers in their hands and sour looks on their faces. I swallowed thickly and shoved my hands into the tiny pockets in my satin skirt, suddenly very, _very _nervous.

I began relaying the well-practiced pitch I'd formulated to make sure this meeting went off without a hitch in my head over and over, and when the elevator dinged, signalling the thirty-second floor, butterflies erupted in my stomach and my palms started to sweat again.

Blondie -- who still remained nameless -- led me down a long, deserted hallway, all the way to the very end. When we reached the oversized, wood grained double-doors, I read the name, "Mr. E. A. Cullen," emblazoned in gold plating. I curled my fingers into a fist and swallowed, preparing myself and repeating the words, "It's your turn," in my head. My trusty -- albeit unsuccessful -- mantra.

_Here goes nothing_, I thought as Blondie pushed open the doors and ushered me inside.

*

I stepped into the large office timidly, afraid to make too much noise and disrupt Mr. Cullen from whatever he was doing at the back of the room. Blondie cleared his throat, causing Mr. Cullen to snap his head around. In the instant that my eyes landed on him, I was awestruck. His perfectly coifed mop of bronze hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the perfectly slight bump on the bridge of his nose, and his deep-set, jade-green eyes… He nearly made me weak in the knees, which is a fairly rare occurrence, since I hadn't been so immediately drawn to someone since high school when I had a crush on Jake Black, the football team's hunky quarterback. I took a steeling breath and righted myself, bowing my head slightly under his gaze.

"Come in," he said smoothly, his voice easy and comfortable.

Blondie had a sly smile on his face as he nodded to Mr. Cullen and stepped out of the room wordlessly, leaving me standing awkwardly in the doorway. I pulled myself together eventually and moved to stand next to Mr. Cullen's desk. He was busy shoving thick folders into his massive filing cabinet, keeping his back to me. Without turning around, he instructed, "Take a seat," in a warm, silky voice. I obeyed and sat down in the cushy armchair. Mr. Cullen turned around then and plunked down into his large, leather chair. He tapped his pen on the desk and finally looked at me.

"So," he began, shuffling papers in front of him, "Isabella Swan, am I correct?" He looked up at me with a gleaming smile on his face.

I cleared my throat -- hoping that would clear the Mr. Cullen-induced haze that seemed to have taken over my brain -- and nodded, trying my hardest to avert my eyes from his soft yet steely gaze. I was unsuccessful and my eyes stayed trained on his face. I realized that he probably felt uncomfortable, what with me staring at him and practically undressing him with my eyes. He had the most heartbreaking smile on his face, though, with his lips curled into a crooked, adorable grin. I gathered my breath and managed a meek, shy smile.

Mr. Cullen glanced down at his papers once more and then sat back in his chair with his ankles crossed, resting his arms on the back of his neck, saying breathlessly, "What do you have for me today?" with that same crooked smile planted on his sickeningly beautiful face.

**~*~**

**EPOV**

The entire parking lot was packed as the limo drove slowly towards the unnecessary red carpet spilling out of the auditorium's doors. There were people with cameras waiting behind velvet ropes and men in suits guarding every entrance. I rolled my eyes as the limo stopped and two more Men In Black came to stand on either side of my door, opening it for me and placing themselves in front of me, guarding me. Cameras flashed and people called my name, scrambling to get an answer to an absurd question out of me. I stopped at a slight blonde girl who was red-faced and nearly shaking.

I stepped toward her and bowed my head, signalling for her to ask me whatever question was on the tip of her tongue. She shuffled through a notepad before quietly asking, "What brings you to Seattle, Mr. Cullen?"

I looked up at the twilit sky, noticing the dark storm clouds looming overhead. "I like the rain," I decided as I stuck out one hand and felt the first drops of the impending rainstorm on my palm. She nodded timidly and scratched my less-than-informative answer down on her notepad.

I made my way down the line, expertly evading every stupid question that was thrown at me. Eventually, when people began shoving one another, the Men In Black ushered me inside quickly and stored me in a large, white-walled room. They closed the door behind me, but I was almost positive they were still standing on the other side of it. I had the urge to remind them that I was simply a book publisher -- not the goddamn president of the United States. I shook my head and sank down into a plush chair, running my hand through my damp hair and sighing.

Suddenly, a verbal war was going on outside of the door and frantic knocks sounded from the other side. I heard one of the suits telling the "intruder" that my room was off-limits to unauthorized personnel. I rolled my eyes when I heard the familiar Southern drawl. "Let him in," I called, walking over and swinging the door open. Jasper stood in between two huge bodyguards, his face red and his brows knitted together angrily. I grabbed the nape of his neck and roughly pulled him into the room, slamming the door in the guards' faces.

"Assholes!" Jasper wailed as he stumbled into the room, puffing out his cheeks and blowing the air out in an irritated 'whoosh.'

I let out an easy laugh and patted Jasper's shoulder as I passed him to resume my position on the chair. "Guards…." I mused, shaking my head and running my hands down my outstretched legs, ridding them of some tiny specks of lint.

Jasper sauntered over to the long table covered with every kind of food imaginable. He mauled over everything before he decided on a dainty finger sandwich that just looked wrong in his long, calloused hands. "Why the fuck do you have guards, anyway?" he asked through a mouthful of tuna. "I mean, it's not like you're fucking _famous _or something," he added flippantly, plopping down in the chair adjacent to mine.

I shrugged and sat up a little straighter. "It feels kind of nice, though," I admitted, smiling impishly.

He shrugged, looking totally impassive, causing me to chuckle. "I'm alright with being your right-hand man."

I couldn't stifle the childish giggle that built up in my throat. Jasper gave me that you're-a-fucking-moron look and shook his head slowly. "Sorry," I muttered, chuckling once more before I was interrupted by an obnoxious rapping on the door. "Come in," I called, standing up and righting my slightly wrinkled suit.

A tall, thin, balding man stepped through the door, looking awkward and embarrassed. He didn't look up from the floor as he mumbled, "They're ready to give you the award," and shuffled his feet.

I nodded at him as he left the room. Jasper walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a less-than-gentle squeeze. "Even though I think this award is bullshit, good luck with the speech, dude," he said, nudging me forward. When I didn't move, he opted for pushing me out of the door and into a throng of flustered, fast-talking Suits.

*

Dull, gray light was illuminating my bedroom with a gloomy, eerie glow when I rolled out of bed the next morning. My eyes stung and I could still see the bright, obnoxious flashes of dozens of camera behind my eyelids as I made my way blindly to the kitchen. My feet hurt and I was impossibly tired. Crawling back into bed and slipping back into peaceful sleep was the only thing I wanted to do all day long. I glanced at the digital clock on the stainless steel microwave and groaned. Four forty-five. I shuffled to the bathroom with a sigh and began my morning routine once again.

By the time five-thirty rolled around, I was dressed and heading out the door. I slammed the door behind me, hoping that I at least woke up one other person in my apartment building; it just wasn't fair that I was awake this early in the morning. I drove groggily down the slick Seattle streets, silently willing my brand new Volvo S60 to break down so I had an excuse to stay home today. But, of course, the damn thing was in mint condition, so I knew it was a futile wish. I pulled into the parking spot labelled "Mr. Cullen" and cut the engine.

I was glad that I was alone as I slipped through the back door of Cullen Enterprises; this gave me time to get caught up on a little bit of work and maybe take a nap before any clients started piling in and shoving shitty manuscripts in my face and telling me they're the next big thing. I calculated the time I had before my first appointment, and decided that two hours was plenty of time to have a nap. I tossed my laptop case and my briefcase on the long leather couch in my office before taking the elevator to the first floor to leave a note on Gianna's desk.

"_Do not bother me for a full two hours. Thank you_," the note read.

I was greeted with a jolly-looking Jasper when the elevator doors opened. I groaned, realizing that my plans for a morning nap were more-than-likely officially ruined.

"Mornin'," he said happily, stepping aside to let me out of the elevator. He had the biggest smile on his face, and I couldn't think of one reason why someone would be so happy at six o'clock in the morning.

"Fuck off," I muttered.

I walked out of the elevator and stared at Gianna's desk, mentally noting that a note was now unnecessary. I huffed and turned back to the elevator. Jasper followed behind me, rambling on about the clients I had booked for today. He blabbered on and on about how busy I was going to be today, and how I probably should have waited to come into work a little bit later since I'd probably be here until well past midnight. I resisted the urge to punch him.

We entered my office together, and when Jasper just made himself and home and folded up on my leather couch, I quirked an eyebrow at him and shook my head. He rolled his eyes and stood up, brushing his hands over his freshly pressed white shirt. "Get out," I ordered.

He looked incredulous and a bit offended. "But my office is so boring!" He pointed to the football tucked away between my bookshelf and a filing cabinet. "Let's just throw around the pigskin for awhile, man," he offered.

Jasper and I ended up tossing the football back and forth for the better part of two hours. Gianna called me four times with nothing to say, and I mentally kicked myself for hiring a girl who wanted into my pants so goddamn bad. No matter how much she tried to deny it, I knew Gianna was hot for me. It's not that she wasn't pretty enough -- because she was, I guess, a typically pretty woman -- it's just that no matter how much I looked at her I could never imagine myself even touching her. She was slightly pig-faced and her body was not proportionate to her head. I chuckled and then felt a little bad, because as I was picturing her as a caricature drawn by a poor street busker, the phone rang again and her name popped up on the call display.

"Yes?" I answered, catching the football with one hand as Jasper flung it just inches from my face.

"Your eleven o'clock is here," she whined from the other end. _Must be a girl_, I noted by the sound of Gianna's annoyed, reluctant submission.

"Jasper will be right down," I told her and hung up the phone. I turned to Jasper, flinging the ball back to him and hitting him square in the chest. The air whooshed out of him and he buckled forward, heaving for breath. I laughed. "My eleven is here. It's a girl. Go get her." He gave me a sour look and stomped out of the office.

I shuffled around my office for a few minutes tidying up the riotous mess that Jasper always leaves while he's in here. Once the floors were free of scrap paper and my desk was semi-presentable, I flipped through pages upon pages of paper, searching for the appointments I'd jotted down weeks ago. I finally found what I was looking for, and I scanned the page in front of me.

Apparently, my appointment was with a 21-year-old girl named Isabella Swan. I could tell from the notes on the side of the page that this girl had been through a lot of publishers and had gotten rejected every time. I felt a little pang of sympathy for the girl, but my mind went in a different direction when the thought that I'd have to reject her too popped in my head. I shrugged my shoulders and put the paper down at the same time Jasper pushed open my office doors.

I was stunned - completely and utterly stunned. The girl standing next to Jasper was a vision of red and black silk, smooth, creamy legs, and flowing, mahogany-colored hair. She was chewing on her bottom lip and her eyes scanned the room nervously. Instantly, I wanted to just jump out of my chair and wrap this beautiful creature in my arms, just to see how her body felt against mine. Her eyes held so much more than I'd ever seen in a person, and I immediately wanted to know her entire story. "Come in," I said, but my voice sounded far away as this girl's magnetism drew me in even further. "Take a seat," I offered in a voice that wasn't mine.

It was hard to keep my composure as I started into her eyes, but I knew that for the time being - because I was definitely hoping for a second meeting - this was all professional. I righted myself and tapped the papers I was holding on my desk, impatient and hopeful that she'd written something worthwhile, just so I could see her again. "So…." I said. "Isabella Swan, am I correct?" She cleared her throat and I swear my dick twitched in my pants.

_Damn, Cullen. A frog in her throat gets you hot? What's the matter with you? _I thought, stifling a groan and mentally rolling my eyes.

My eyes met Isabella's and I could tell she was trying to look away, although the focus in her eyes was so intense that I thought for a second I'd frightened her with the animalistic glare that was most likely present on my face. But she took her bottom lip between her teeth and I could tell that the passion in my eyes was mirrored in hers. She wasn't frightened at all - she even looked a little… turned on. I discretely adjusted the growing bulge in my pants, blowing out a soundless, steadying breath, and sat back in my chair, crossing my wrists behind my neck.

"What do you have for me today?" I asked, a shit-eating grin spread wide across my face. I watched her eyes widen slightly as she continued to stare at me, and I revelled in the thought that she'd caught the undoubtedly inappropriate double-meaning in my question.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts! If you like it, I'll post chapter 2 next weekend.**


	3. Chapter 2: Silky Red Sheets

**A/N: Hi guys! Thanks so much for all of your kind words. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy like. So, here is chapter two for all you pervy ladies (and gentlemen?) out there. There be sexin' down there, but I can't help it -- I'm such a tease. ;) Enjoy!**

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**BPOV**

I was almost ninety-nine percent sure I was going to pass out if he kept looking at me like that. He had this playful grin on his face that made the corner of his eyes crinkle, which suggested stifled giggles and undeniably unprofessional behaviour. It pissed me off, but I couldn't help but be slightly intrigued at the way his mouth turned crooked as he held back a teeth-baring smile. Surely I would be a puddle on his hardwood floor if he held back breathy laughs as I shook and fumbled over my words in front of him.

I'd been working on the pitch for weeks, for Christ's sake. I picked it apart until there was nothing left to pick. It was supposed to be perfect and it was supposed to make Mr. Cullen see that I wasn't just some juvenile wannabe author. I was serious about my work. But now, as I sat in front of him, I felt so small, so insecure. Here I was, spilling my heart out about the one thing in my life that I feel so passionately about, and he was laughing at me. My face blushed crimson and my hands squeezed the papers in front of me. I held back my embarrassment and told myself that I could do this as I stumbled out the last lines of my pitch.

"This book means everything to me; it's like my child and it has been for years now. I believe it has potential that book publishers in the past have overlooked, and I feel that if you give my novel and myself a real chance, it will prove in your favour, Mr. Cullen." I sucked in a shallow breath and prepared myself for the onslaught of guffaws from Mr. Cullen.

But, as I looked up from my trembling hands to Mr. Cullen's face, I was incredibly shocked. All traces of laughter and make-fun had left his face, and his eyes were suddenly hard -- intense to the point of downright steeliness. He leaned forward in his chair and I automatically leaned back against the intensity of his stare.

"This book is your life." It wasn't a question.

I swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir," I croaked.

He was probably waiting for me to elaborate as he sat scarily still with his body still tilted toward me and his eyes burning holes into my retinas. But I couldn't formulate a more intellectual statement. His beauty and power washed over me in waves and I could have sworn a lusty glint appeared in the jade-green sea staring into my glassy eyes.

He sighed -- and that's when I truly lost it. The sound was husky and guttural, with a hint of the earlier humour and playfulness laced within. "Very well," he quipped.

Mr. Cullen began shuffling the pages of my manuscript, putting it back into its proper order. And with his obvious signs of dismissal, my dreams fell once more. I, too, began gathering my things, shoving them into my laptop case with a little too much force. My ears and eyes were burning as I waited to hear my latest -- and, to be completely honest, probably last -- rejection.

And then Mr. Cullen surprised the hell out of me. He picked up my manuscript, placing it gently in the top drawer of his desk, and began writing clumsy scrawl on a small card. I stared in disbelief and had to place my hand under my chin to ensure it stayed where it was and didn't end up on Mr. Cullen's floor. Mr. Cullen finished whatever he was writing and placed the small card in front of me.

"Is the first of September good for you, Isabella?"

It took me a minute to gather my thoughts and actually process what this meant.

He wanted to see me again.

He wanted to set up another meeting.

_He liked what he saw out of me today! _

My entire body swelled with pride and happiness as I slid the card off of Mr. Cullen's desk and slipped it into my laptop case without looking to see what he had been writing -- I just assumed it was his secretary's number.

"That would be perfect," I supplied, an enormous grin nearly swallowing my face.

Mr. Cullen smiled sweetly and stood up; I followed suit and gathered my things in a rush. He walked me to the door with his hand outstretched behind me. His hand was close enough to my lower back that if my body decided to be uncooperative and my clumsiness took over, he'd be there to catch me, but his hand was just centimetres shy of touching me. I breathed in deeply when I thought about what those hands would feel like on my body.

_Those large, slender hands, calloused lightly which indicated be might be a guitar player… _

They were very, _very_ nice hands.

I snapped out of my reverie just in time to realize Mr. Cullen was opening the door for me with a lazy grin spread across his face. I nodded, because that's the only gesture I could make as I shuffled out the door with a beet-red face.

Just as I started towards the elevators down the hall, I heard Mr. Cullen's smooth, husky voice sound from behind me. "Excuse me," he said.

His voice caught me off-guard and I whipped around a little too quickly -- which, in turn, triggered my goddamn clumsiness, and I slammed the side of my head straight into Mr. Cullen's immovable shoulder. I stumbled sideways and immediately started spewing apologies at him, my face burning red and my head spinning with embarrassment.

He placed one hand on my shoulder hesitantly. "It's okay, Isabella." He had this taunting smile on his face and as soon as I came to my senses, I slouched my entire body into his gentle, timid touch.

"Sorry," I added again for good measure while every nerve in my body sparked.

One touch and I was putty in his hands. His fucking hands…

_Ridiculous._

Mr. Cullen noticed my obviously dazed expression and furrowed his brows. He removed his hand from my shoulder and placed it militarily at his side, his lips pressing into a hard line. He looked like he was fighting an internal dilemma on what to say next because his mouth began opening and closing as his eyes floated back and forth between me and the waiting elevator.

Eventually, Mr. Cullen's silence was interrupted by the ding of the elevator the slamming of a door simultaneously. His suddenly stiff posture loosened and he began walking backwards slowly. "Never mind," he said quickly. "Nice meeting you, Isabella." And with that, he slinked soundlessly back into his office.

*

I was a pile of jelly when I finally returned to my apartment. Although I should have been thinking about the prospect of having Mr. Cullen behind my novel, my mind immediately reverted to thoughts of Mr. Cullen behind _me_.

_His strong, calloused hands touching my warm skin as his body hovered above me, the way his husky, delicious voice would sound whispering my name in a sigh of pleasure…_

I sighed, resigning to the fact that I was clearly somewhere in dreamland if I thought that was every going to happen. I tossed my laptop case down on the kitchen table and pulled my cell phone out of my jacket pocket.

Seven new messages. All from Alice.

I scrolled through them, mostly ignoring her squealing over the fact that I was meeting with, and I quote, "the hottest motherfucker on the west coast," and wrote back a quick reply.

_I'll tell you about it when you're home. I'm happy._

Alice would love my cryptic response, and I prepared myself for the onslaught of replies Alice would undoubtedly send. I put my phone down on the table beside my laptop case and shrugged out of my jacket, throwing that down on top of my phone.

I spent the rest of my afternoon cleaning the dreadful mess that had suddenly taken over our apartment. Papers were scattered everywhere, the dishes were overflowing in the sink and about three week's worth of recyclables were calling my name like a siren song from the storage closet. Although the mess was undeniably a mess of epic proportions, it only took me about an hour to put the apartment back in order.

At regular intervals during my cleaning spree, my eyes wandered back to my laptop case on the table. That little card, tucked neatly between my manuscript and my laptop, was screaming at me. I was battling an internal dilemma for about twenty minutes after I was done cleaning; should I take it out and look at it, or will that just get my hopes up even further?

I opted for checking my cell phone instead. Alice had sent another nine messages in the last hour, but only one really caught my attention.

_Won't be home tonight. I love you. Text me in the morning, xo._

My heart immediately sank. I hated staying in our apartment alone at night; tt brought back my childhood fears of darkness and what creatures may inhabit its ominous shadows. Also, however irrational it might have been, I wanted my best friend with me so I could barrage her with squeals. Because Alice, as always, was right. Mr. Cullen really was the hottest motherfucker on the west coast.

I yawned, realizing just how long of a day I'd had, and decided to spend the rest of the evening lying in bed reading. I brought my phone with me and set it on the nightstand as shimmied my skirt down my legs and crawled into my silky red sheets. The sheets were a gift from Alice and she assured me that I'd thank her for them someday.

I settled into a comfortable position in bed and reached over to my nightstand to pick up the novel I'd been reading for almost three weeks now. It was interesting enough, but I just couldn't bring myself to really pay attention to what was happening in it. I got bored of it quickly and opted instead to rest my eyes for a few minutes so I wasn't assaulted with a serious migraine later in the night. It was a common occurrence for me and there wasn't a single medication any doctor could give me that would take the pain away.

I focused on the soft silk beneath and above me and my eyes fluttered closed. And, honestly, I can't say I was surprised to see Mr. Cullen's face behind my heavy eyelids.

…

_My mouth worked its way up and down his torso, my tongue flicking out and tasting his delicious, sweet skin. We were both completely naked in a bed I didn't recognize. My surroundings were fuzzy, but all I could focus on was him beneath me._

_My body was tangled with his and my warm naked body was pressed flush against his legs. He was twitching and trembling as I worked over him. I could tell he was begging me for more. I let my tongue lightly drag up and over the tip of his cock, eliciting a breathy moan and a buck of his hips._

"_Take me," he whispered, pushing his body closer to mine, as if that were even humanly possible. _

_I took the entire length of his throbbing cock into my mouth, tilting my head from side to side as I felt the head touch the back of my throat. He was groaning softly and cursing under his breath as I moaned around his cock, his fingers moving across my body in timid strokes._

_Finally, his long, slender fingers found my aching sex and he pressed his palm against me. My entire body ignited in a fit of rampant flames and my body involuntarily bucked against his warm hand. My actions slowed as he pressed his thumb against my clit, but when he finally gave in and pressed his fingers deep inside of me, my entire body froze. _

"_Fuck," I breathed as his fingers moved inside of me blissfully uninhibitedly, his eyes never leaving mine as he brought me closer and closer to the edge._

_In an instant I was on my back and he was hovering above me, a dangerous glint in his glossy eyes. "Yes," he whispered next to my ear as he thrust himself into me, causing me to cry out in absolute ecstasy. _

_He continued pushing into me rhythmically, his body so in-tune with mine that I knew I couldn't take it for much longer. I grabbed his hand and pulled it to my throbbing center, forcing him to touch me as his cock continued to move inside of me._

_My entire body tensed and soon all I could hear were his breathless grunts and my screams of approval._

"_Yes, oh, yes!" I whimpered. My entire body coiled like a spring and I knew I couldn't hold off any longer. "Mmm, yes, I'm gonna… I'm…"_

…

Suddenly I was sitting straight up in bed, my legs tangled around my silky red sheets and my breaths coming out in hard pants. My hair was matted to my sweaty forehead and my body was trembling.

"Oh, god," I whispered out loud, embarrassment and disappointment showering over me accordingly.

_Sex dreams about a man you've met once? _I thought to myself foolishly.

I tried futilely to push the thoughts of my irrational dream out of my head and picked up my cell phone, realizing I'd been asleep for nearly four hours. Alice hadn't messaged me again since I'd fallen asleep, so I decided I'd throw her a message that she could read in the morning.

_Be safe. See you tomorrow. PS, I agree -- hottest motherfucker on the west coast. _

I smiled, giggling as I hit the send button.

* * *

**EPOV**

Isabella Swan was an interesting little person.

I sat back in my massive leather chair and watched Isabella tremble in front of me. Her face was beet-red, her legs were bouncing to a staccato rhythm, her teeth were clamped down on her full bottom lip and her voice was low as she rambled out a pitch that was totally unnecessary.

As always, no matter who came into my office, the words they had to say in our meeting were virtually useless. It didn't matter if they wrote the novel for themselves or for their dog, the only thing I cared about was the content of their work. If their writing was interesting and made me want to read more, they got a second chance -- even if the novel was about a dog.

Seriously. _Chasing Fido _was a bestseller.

I buried my face in Isabella's manuscript and waited for her words to jump out at me. The first few paragraphs of the prologue were interesting enough, but nothing excellent caught my eye at first glance -- until I caught a glimpse of Isabella through my periphery.

She was clutching her papers like they were her tether to the very Earth. Her breaths were coming in short gasps and her chest was heaving. I'd never seen anything so adorable in my entire life. A wide grin appeared on my face and the urge to laugh erupted inside of me. I stifled it, surprisingly, and let my eyes scan over Isabella's manuscript once again.

She continued to bite her lip and stumble out her pitch as I got caught up in a rather enticing part of the story in front of me. It was telling about a time in the past when a group of children found something -- an object -- that would eventually tear their friendship apart. The way it was written was like an unsolvable riddle; the answer as to why this object was so important was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was.

I reread sections of the chapter, trying to put two and two together, but I failed to figure out what was wrong with these penniless New York street kids. It was intriguing to say the very least.

"This book means everything to me; it's like my child and it has been for years now." Isabella's voice caught my attention. The low hum of her soft voice was gone without a trace. It was stern now, like the small little mouse in front of me had blossomed into a fierce tiger. Her eyes were focused on the words in front of her and the expression she carried made me do a double-take. She was so focused -- and Jesus Christ help me, it was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. "I believe it has potential that book publishers in the past have overlooked, and I feel that if you give my novel and myself a real chance, it will prove in your favour, Mr. Cullen."

I believed her. In those three little sentences, I completely understood what she meant. She believed in herself and she knew she could do what it takes to make herself a success. This wasn't just some side project that she thought she could pass the time with. This story, this titillating adventure she'd woven, was the most important thing to her in the entire world.

She was driven.

She was dedicated.

_She was incredible._

_*_

I had to admit, watching Isabella walk out of my office was hard. Firstly, I wanted to sit her down and ask her what the hell was going to happen in her novel, because I was impatient, and for the first time in years, I couldn't wait to devour every word in the 400-page manuscript. Secondly, Isabella Swan was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen. Her long, coffee-colored hair and her wide brown eyes made my body do strange things and my mind, even stranger. When she turned around at he sound of my voice and her body collided with mine, a spark ran through me and I never wanted to let my hands leave her. She was so warm, so soft in my hand…

Before I knew it I was standing back in my office with Jasper yapping in my ear about the rest of my clients that were waiting for me. I ignored him for as long as possible, but Jasper had his nagging tactics down pat -- got my every single time.

"Yes, Jazz, I know," I said as he reminded me about aspiring novelist, Heidi MacVane, for the seventeenth time. What a pretentious penname. "I'm just… taking a break right now," I offered.

Jazz suddenly turned silent, which, I'll admit, frightened me immensely. I turned in his direction and was met with a curious expression and a quirked eyebrow. "Someone's got a case of the Swans." His mouth turned up into a warped grin.

"Fuck you, man," I said, launching a pen at his head.

He dodged it. "She's pretty hot, Edward."

I thought about Isabella's subtle curves and that long fucking hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. "So?" I offered, but a traitor blush crept up to my cheeks.

Jazz just _revelled _in that shit. "Look at you, Edward Anthony Cullen, blushing like a schoolgirl. Did she give you a handski underneath your desk or something?"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, get out," I ordered.

Jazz broke out into easy laughter, yelling, "Edward has a crush!" in a sing-song voice before he closed the door and left me in peace.

Well, if you'd classify a throbbing, Isabella induced hard-on peaceful.

I quickly messaged Gianna and successfully cancelled the rest of my appointments for the day. I stuffed my keys in my pocket and cradled Isabella's manuscript under my arm as I walked out of the office and stepped into my car.

I could already tell it was going to be a _long _night.

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**A/N: I wish I had dreams like Isabella Swan. Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be out much faster if you assault me for it in the form of reviews. You know I love you. *kiss***


	4. Chapter 3: Brickwalls and Butterflies

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in forever. From now on I will be updating every Tuesday. Also, I've changed the chapters from double POV to just one. It will alternate every second chapter between BPOV and EPOV.**

**Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with me!**

**And a very special thanks to _anythingzombie_ for agreeing to be my beta.**

**Enjoy!**

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**BPOV**

I awoke with a start to the sounds of Alice's trilling, insanely high-pitched voice singing over top of me. It was a song I knew I recognized, but I was unable to identify it through the sleepy haze taking over my brain. I rolled over, stiff and exhausted, and flapped my hand, waving Alice away. She continued to sing and I finally realized what she was belting.

It was 'Let's Talk About Sex' by Salt n' Pepa.

I was immediately mortified as last night's dream filtered back into my brain. The absolute ecstasy I felt, the way my body was pressed against his, the way his moans ignited every nerve in my entire being…

"You're awake!" Alice beamed, jumping onto my bed and bouncing on her knees toward me.

I tried to smile through my embarrassment.

"Barely," I mumbled sitting up and pressing my back against the headboard. "When did you get home?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Early this morning… But enough about me! How was the appointment with _Mr. Cullen_?" she asked, passion dripping from her voice as she said his name in a sultry moan.

I had to giggle at her dramatics.

"It was good," I said flippantly, moving to stand up and stretch.

Alice grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back onto the bed. "No way, you're not getting away that easily!" she declared. "He's pretty hot, eh?" I could clearly hear the lilt in her voice. She was hinting at something and I had a pretty good idea what it was.

"I guess so," I said evasively, but a small smile still crept onto my lips as my mind wandered back to Mr. Cullen.

I looked up through my lashes at Alice and I swear her smile was on the verge of consuming her entire face. Her pearly whites shined and the twinkle in her eye made me want to puke.

"What is it, Alice?" I said exasperated. Her smile widened, if that were even possible.

"I totally heard you in here last night!" she exclaimed, her proclamation followed by a fit of squeals and giggles. "Girl, you have skills!"

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks burning red. "What do you mean 'I have skills'?" I asked.

Alice looked appalled at my question. "Are you kidding?" she yelped. "You bagged… _him_!" Her expression had shock written all over it.

"What are you talking about, Alice?" I asked, totally confused.

Alice simply shook her head. "No respect, Bella. You have no respect for sex! You banged Edward _fucking_ Cullen and you're sitting here like it's no big deal." Alice clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, shaking her head dismally.

My laughter was so loud it forced Alice to slap her hands over her ears and cringe. "Oh, Alice," I squealed through my fit of laughter. "You have no idea."

I twisted and turned on my bed, unable to control my laughter. Alice must have been completely delusional. Here I sit, plain-Jane Bella with boring brown hair and plain brown eyes. Even the thought of Mr. Cullen wanting anything sexual to do with me was utterly absurd. I shook my head as my giggles began to subside and slipped out of my silky, messed-up sheets.

I stretched and looked back at Alice. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were pouted. She looked like a sad little child who had dropped her lollipop in the sandbox.

I laughed again. "Alice, what you heard in here last night…" I had to take a deep breath before continuing and I was sure my cheeks flamed a million shades of crimson, even through my lifted mood. "That was simply a Mr. Cullen induced dream." I cleared my throat as the images from the dream assaulted me once more. "But it was a damn good dream."

I walked out of my room quickly, leaving Alice sitting on my bed with her jaw about an inch from hitting the floor.

I was somehow able to slip into the bathroom and turn the shower on before Alice finally got up to run after me. I stepped into the warm spray of the shower with Alice on the other side of the bathroom door, banging loudly and repeating my name incessantly. I smiled to myself and could only imagine what scenarios Alice's wild imagination was conjuring. Alice finally gave up just as I was rinsing the shampoo from my hair. I turned the shower off and listened for a few minutes to make sure she was really gone.

When the coast was clear, I stepped out into the apartment in my towel with my wet hair hanging down my back. The drops of water coming off my hair were creating dark spots on the carpet. I looked in every room and finally came to the conclusion that Alice was no longer here, which made me breathe a sigh of relief. I loved Alice dearly, but that girl was a persistent little monster. She'd never let me hear the end of this one.

Just as I was about to walk to my room to get dressed, I heard a knock sound at my door. I must have looked like a cheesy cartoon character standing there looking back and forth between my towel-clad body and the knocking at the door. I opted for peering out of the peep hole to see who was here at such an early hour. I stepped soundlessly over to the door and peeked out.

My breath hitched immediately and I stumbled one step back, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head.

Outside of my door, clad in a streamlined black business suit, was Blondie.

_Mr. Cullen's _Blondie.

In my moment of panic I blurted "Just a minute!" before making a bee-line for my bedroom. I threw on an old high school sweater that just happened to be lying atop my dresser and threw on a pair of dirty flannel pajama bottoms. I rushed back to the door and took a deep breath before opening it.

Blondie looked damn good, I had to admit, but I could barely think about that with the scenarios that began running through my head.

Was he here to throw my manuscript back in my face?

Was he here to tell me that Mr. Cullen had made a mistake and didn't want to meet with me again?

"Hi," I managed to squeak. He looked shocked when he recognized me and I heard his sharp intake of breath even through the blood rushing through my ears.

"Umm, hello," he said hesitantly, his cheeks flushed red. He shuffled his feet and I couldn't help but smile. When I'd seen him in Mr. Cullen's office he had looked so confident and professional; now he looked like a scared child.

"Can I help you?" I asked, still smiling.

He cleared his throat and looked up at me through his lashes. "Is… is Alice here?" he asked.

I blanched immediately.

The suspicious late nights out, the stifled giggles every time a text message was received, the over the moon moods she's been having…

It was Blondie this entire time!

A huge smile appeared on my face and I couldn't help but feel a huge amount of happiness for Alice. I pictured them together and although they were polar opposites, it just seemed right. An adorable couple without a doubt.

Blondie cleared his throat and I realized I'd been standing there like an idiot for God knows how long. I opened the door wider and stood to the side, ushering him inside. He was timid, I could tell, but he came in nonetheless. He took off his shoes and stepped into the kitchen as I closed the door behind us. I followed him into the kitchen, still smiling like a fool.

"So, is Alice here?" Blondie repeated nervously, obviously feeling very awkward in this strange house with a relatively strange girl.

"Oh! No. Alice must have stepped out for a little while. Do you want me to call her and ask her when she'll be home?" I offered, moving to stand next to the fridge.

Blondie fidgeted with the sleeve of his suit. "Umm… You don't have to, but you can if you want," he said quietly. His soft voice was a definite change from the confident, friendly guy I'd seen the day before.

I smiled at him and moved close to him. I stretched my hand towards him. "My name is Bella," I said as he reached his hand out and shook mine gently.

"I remember you," he said smiling. "I'm Jasper."

Really? I hadn't pegged him as a Jasper. "Nice to meet you again, Jasper," I said, releasing my hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said politely. I smiled again. Just as I was about to offer him something to drink, my phone began ringing from the other room. I excused myself and darted in to answer it before I missed the call. I looked down at the caller ID and noticed that it was Alice.

Perfect timing.

"Hey, Alice," I answered.

"You will never guess who I just ran into on the street! Oh my God! He is… He is… Bella!" Alice squealed from the other end, her breathing ragged and her voice an octave so high I was sure only dogs could hear it.

"Calm down! Who did you run into?" I asked, a bit flabbergasted by her excitement.

"Edward! Edward fucking Cullen! I was walking out of the mall and _bam_, I ran straight into him!" she exclaimed.

I laughed to myself, but I was a bit surprised as butterflies tickled my stomach at the mention of his name. I shook my head and mentally chastised myself for being so foolish. No matter how good the dream was, he was merely a book publisher who just happened to be interested in my writing. I'd be able to ignore the fact that he looked like a fucking deity and was undoubtedly an amazing fucking lay.

I remembered Alice was on the other line and cleared my throat. "That's awesome, Alice. Really. But I bet you will never guess who is in our kitchen right now," I said with a smile in my voice.

"Who?" she blurted immediately.

"Mr. Cullen's assistant," I said.

Alice huffed. "Damn you, Bella. I thought you were going to say Brad Pitt or something." I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

I laughed. "His name is Jasper," I whispered.

I was greeted with total silence on the other end of the phone, which was something you didn't normally hear from Alice unless she was sleeping or really, _really_ drunk. I waited a moment and let Alice regain her composure.

About twenty seconds later, Alice inhaled deeply and I could almost hear her smile. "I'll be right home," she squealed before the line went dead.

I hung up the phone and smiled, walking back into the kitchen and stuffing my phone in my pocket. Jasper was standing with his back to me admiring the photos that adorned mine and Alice's fridge. I blushed when I realized he was looking at the one of me and Alice in a friendly, drunken lip-lock. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

He whipped his head around and I noticed that his cheeks were a delightful shade of crimson. He looked cute and I was instantly happy for Alice; they really would make a perfect couple.

"Alice is on her way home," I announced. Jasper smiled and thanked me, nodding.

It was fairly awkward standing in the kitchen with Jasper, so I told him that he could join me in the living room while he waited. He nodded again and I silently wished he would speak to me. He was making it difficult by staying so silent. In order to quell the nervousness brought on by having a relatively strange man standing awkwardly in my kitchen, I initiated the conversation by saying the first thing that came to mind.

"So, you work for Mr. Cullen?" I asked.

My cheeks flamed instantly and busied myself by opening my laptop and typing in my password key.

Jasper cleared his throat. "Yeah, I am," is all he offered.

"That's cool," I said, trying so hard to hide my blush by curtaining my face with my hair.

Jasper nodded. "Yup. I've been working with him from the beginning," he added, fidgeting with the sleeves on his shirt.

"How long has Mr. Cullen been in business?" I asked because I suddenly realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to get some insight on the illusive Mr. Cullen.

It was better than having Alice twitter on about his obvious good looks, anyway.

"He finished university early so he dove right in at the age of twenty-two. Lucky bastard," Jasper said with a chuckle.

"How old is he now?"

Jasper cleared his throat again. "He's twenty-five."

I could tell that Jasper was catching on to my intentions of getting some background on Mr. Cullen, so I decided I'd ease off. I turned my attention away from him, muttering, "The remote's on top of the TV if you wanna watch something," as I pretended I was busy with my laptop.

Before Jasper could even figure out how to operate the confusing remote that went along with our overtly flashy flat-screen, courtesy of Alice Brandon, the little minx herself strutted through the door with an armload of shopping bags. She dropped them to the floor immediately and barrelled into the living room. Unless my eyes were deceiving me, I could have sworn Alice's eyes went glassy as soon as she laid eyes upon Jasper.

_Such a sap._

"Hi, Jazz," she purred, sitting down beside him and pressing her palm to his leg instantly.

He smiled down at her and I could have sworn the butterflies from earlier had started World War III in my stomach. The look in Jasper's eyes as he peered down at Alice was the most sickeningly sweet thing I'd ever witnessed.

I quietly excused myself to my bedroom, but neither of them even acknowledged me.

"Fools in love," I muttered to myself when I was a safe distance away.

I wandered back to my bedroom with the intention of cleaning up but was somewhat disappointed when I realized that it was nearly spotless, apart from last night's glass of water sitting on my nightstand. I picked it up and took it to the kitchen. As I walked out of my room, I could see Alice and Jasper out of my periphery. They were hand-in-hand on their way to Alice's bedroom.

_Oh, God_, I thought instantly.

I put the glass in the sink quickly, grabbed my purse off of the table and bolted out the door.

No way was I listening to _that _tonight.

I walked aimlessly down the damp streets of Seattle. It was twilight and the city lights illuminated the slick streets beautifully. My eyes travelled over the glistening lights and the feet of the few pedestrians, my thoughts a jumble of sequel ideas, magical notebooks and teenage angst.

That was until I hit what felt like a brick wall - literally.

My purse collided with the cement and I was knocked backwards, my ass landing harshly on the sidewalk. A gasp sounded in front of me and when I was coherent again I noticed the large, slender hand in front of me.

Then I came face-to-face with those jade green eyes that held a shocked, remorseful expression.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted immediately. I stood up on my own, ignoring Mr. Cullen's helping hand, and grabbed my purse off of the ground. "I'm so clumsy."

I dusted myself off and nodded in his direction, silently thanking him for the gesture. I started walking off, my thoughts immediately changing from sequels and magical notebooks to the butterflies that had once again erupted in my stomach.

Before I could manage to get more than three steps away from him, a cool, strong hand grasped my wrist and held me in place. That same buzzing current shot through my arm and I gasped, my eyes wide.

I turned around and jade green once again penetrated my senses, nearly rendering my incompetent.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Cullen said, still holding my wrist.

I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away from his intoxicating gaze. "It's no problem, really." I wanted to pull away from him, but my body felt frozen as the electric hum of his touch vibrated through me.

Mr. Cullen cleared his throat and finally let go of my wrist. I noticed then that he wasn't wearing the suit and tie he'd been wearing in our meeting. He had on a pair of gray jeans and a forest green long-sleeved shirt. The clothing fit him like a dream and I let my eyes linger on his strong chest for longer than I'd intended.

Mr. Cullen cleared his throat and a blush crept up my neck and into my cheeks instantly.

"What are you doing wandering the streets at this hour?" he asked smiling.

"Alice and Jasper are fucking," I blurted. My eyes widened and my hand shot up to cover my mouth. "I mean… my friend and her boyfriend needed some… alone time…" I shook my head dismally.

Mr. Cullen chuckled and shook his head. "Fools in love," he laughed.

I was momentarily caught off guard by Mr. Cullen's use of the phrase I'd thought of earlier, but I nodded and gave him a soft smile nonetheless.

I was beginning to feel awkward just standing there in front of Mr. Cullen, so I politely excused myself and began to walk away.

When I was a comfortable distance away from him, I let out a long, grating sigh, shaking my head and mentally cursing myself for my stupidity.

"Wait!" I heard from behind me. I looked back and saw Mr. Cullen jogging towards me. "Isabella!"

My name falling from his lips did strange things to my body, but I stopped and turned around, pretending I wasn't visualizing what those gray jeans concealed.

"Yeah?" I asked when he'd reached me.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he caught his breath. "I mean, right now… Where are you going?"

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth while I thought about that. "Nothing," I decided. "Why?"

Mr. Cullen cleared his throat. "Well, I'm just on my way to pick up a late dinner and… well… since you're not doing anything… I thought you might want to join me?"

I was shocked by how nervous he sounded. He'd been so confident and professional - aside from the subtle laughter - in our meeting. I liked this version of Mr. Cullen.

A lot.

I looked up at him and realized that he'd also pulled his full bottom lip between his teeth and was worrying it back and forth. My smile widened as I considered his offer.

_Dinner with Mr. E. A. Cullen?_

The butterfly army was back in full-force.

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**A/N: Thank you for reading. Leave me a review and let me know what you think! See you next Tuesday! ;)**


	5. Chapter 4: The Art of Seduction

Disclaimer: Steph owns Twilight, but I own this story.

**A/N: I know, I know. I took for-fucking-ever to update. I'm not gonna bore you with excuses, though. I'll just apologize profusely and beg for your forgiveness. But seriously, though, thanks to everyone who is reading/review/alerting/favoriting. You're all amazing! Enjoy some EPOV now. See you at the bottom!**

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**EPOV**

This was bad. I shouldn't be doing this. I'm Edward Cullen, CEO of Cullen Enterprises. I should know better than to fraternize with a client!

_Stop yourself!_

But I couldn't. Shy, meek little Isabella was on her ass in front of me with her hair swinging wildly around her face and her bottom lip tucked tightly between her teeth. She looked adorable, albeit a little helpless, but still, it was the cutest thing I'd ever witnessed. I finally noticed I was just standing there staring at her like some fucking creep, so I helped her up and watched unabashedly as she wiped the dirt from her rear, stealing a few fleeting - and probably inappropriate - glances at it. I couldn't help it, though; it was a damn nice rear.

I fought the urge to adjust my pants immediately.

_Fuck that. She's not adorable - she's downright sexy_, I thought while she righted herself.

Before I could even contemplate the consequences of what I was doing, Isabella and I were walking side-by-side on our way to a small dinner near my apartment. She chewed on that pouty bottom lip the entire walk and I constantly found my eyes retreating back to it. It was enticing and oh so fucking tempting.

I wished it was my teeth gnawing lightly on her plump, pink flesh.

I had a feeling Isabella was completely oblivious to the fact that she simply radiated sex appeal. She was reserved and wore rather conservative clothing, but the way her hips swung just slightly as she walked, the way she pouted her lips and widened her doe eyes when I spoke to her, the way she nibbled on that fucking lip… Add to that the fact that it felt as if a thrumming electric current moved from her skin to mine the moment we touched, it was almost too much for me to handle.

She was undoing me already, and I'd only known the woman for two fucking days.

"Where are you having dinner?" she asked, pulling me from my fantasies.

I smiled down at her. "_We_, Isabella, are having dinner at The Grove."

She nodded, though I was pretty sure she didn't know about this little excuse for a food establishment. I mean, it wasn't dirty or anything and it had good service, but it wasn't a place where people like me go. It was a hole in the wall in a darkened Seattle back-alley. It was usually deserted apart from the random drunk or a gaggle of teenage delinquents. But it was something of a sanctuary to me. I wasn't bothered here like I was other places. It was safe.

And they had awesome grilled cheese sandwiches.

It only took us about fifteen minutes to walk there and as soon as we were at the entrance Isabella's eyes widened. "Here?" she asked almost incredulously.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," I chided her playfully, tossing her a wink and a crooked smile.

A stunning blush crept onto her cheeks and she looked away, though I detected the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. I opened the door to the diner and stood to the side, ushering her in. I chose the booth furthest to the back and sat down. Isabella looked hesitant before she sat down, but she eventually took a seat across from me, folding her hands in her lap.

The waitress, who I didn't recognize from my earlier visits, came to the table and handed us our menus. She rattled off the dinner specials in a monotone voice and pulled a pad and a pen from the pouch in her apron. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked. She hadn't looked at us once.

"Diet Coke, please," I said.

"Water is fine," Isabella answered.

The waitress pulled her pen away from her pad and rolled her eyes, waving at us flippantly before scampering back behind the counter. She came back almost immediately with a can of diet Coke and a glass of water. She pulled out that pad again. "Do you know what you want yet?" she asked.

I smiled up at her and she finally looked at me. I caught the way her eyes widened and the way she shifted her posture so she stood just a little bit taller. I awarded myself an internal smile and looked to Isabella. She was staring down at her menu intently, figuring out what to order.

The waitress, who I noticed was named Charlotte, tapped her foot impatiently.

"Umm… I'll have a…," Isabella stuttered, unsure of her decision.

I reached over and placed two fingers on her menu, pulling it down and away from her face. She looked up at me immediately and I smiled.

"They have awesome grilled cheese sandwiches," I whispered.

She looked surprised at first but then a gentle, genuine looking smile appeared on her face. She looked up at Charlotte. "A grilled cheese sandwich, please," she said.

Charlotte nodded, obviously irritated by our coy exchange, and scrawled it down on the pad. She looked at me expectantly. She was practically oozing seduction at me, the way her eyes narrowed slightly and the way her lip pouted out, but it was anything but sexy. I mentally cringed but smiled at her.

"I'll have what the lady's having," I said, looking back to Isabella. She smiled again and put her head down.

Charlotte walked away quickly, but not before snatching away our menus and ripping the sheet of paper from her pad. I might have heard her huff, too, but I couldn't be sure; I was too busy ogling the beautiful smile on Isabella's face.

The conversation between Isabella and I became stagnant as soon as the waitress left. She was wringing her hands under the table and once again worrying her lip between her teeth. Although I could watch her chew that lip for days on end, I had to admit that it was starting to get a bit awkward. I took a sip from my diet Coke and then cleared my throat.

"So, you're a writer." I immediately regretted it as soon as the words left my lips. Obviously she was a writer; I had her fucking manuscript!

"So, you're a publisher," she replied.

Her voice was clear now, not shy and reserved like it had been before. I smirked at her and raised my eyebrows, surprised - and a little turned on - by her snark. My smirk was mirrored on her face and she took a dainty sip of her water. I shook my head, chuckling.

"That I am. What made you decide to write?" I asked. I didn't know if it was a personal question or not, or maybe one I should have saved for our next meeting, but she didn't seem fazed by it.

"It's the only thing I'm good at," she answered matter-of-factly. "I have horrible coordination, so ballet was out of the question."

"I highly doubt writing is the _only _thing you're good at, Isabella." She simply shrugged.

We were then interrupted by Charlotte who all but threw our sandwiches at us. She stomped away just as quickly as she came. I bit into my sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"I'm a good cook," Isabella announced. She then took a bite out of her grilled cheese and grimaced. She swallowed and took a long drink of her water.

"You don't like it?" I asked, slightly offended, even though it was completely irrational to feel such way about a fucking sandwich. I couldn't help it, though. I fucking loved these sandwiches. "You can order something else," I added.

Isabella shook her head. "It's fine. Plus, I don't want to anger _her _any further." She nodded her head in Charlotte's direction. "My grilled cheese sandwiches are better, that's all," she added confidently.

…

The walk home from the diner with Isabella was difficult. Although I'd known her for such a short amount of time, she was getting under my skin in the best kind of way. I found myself picturing her in my apartment, making food for me, typing away on her laptop as she reclined on my couch, her dark hair sprawled across my pristine while pillows as I hovered above her…

I was baffled as to how one young woman could have such a monumental effect on me. But then I remembered it was Isabella. She was smart and endearing; shy yet witty. She had looks to kill and a personality that continued to stun me. I'd never been this attracted to anyone in my entire life. I mean, sure, I've had plenty of girls come through my door in the past, but none of them meant anything to me. They were playthings; disposable women who could walk in and out of my life without any form of emotional attachment. It makes me sound like a horrible person, I know, but I used them as such because I knew every single one of them only associated with me because of my name.

I mean, who wouldn't want to sleep with the most wealthy man in Seattle?

I allowed my thoughts and my eyes to roam back to Isabella. She had her coat pulled around her tightly and I could see that she was trembling.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

She looked up at me and shivered, her pink, supple lips quivering in the chill night air. "Yes," she said, her teeth chattering.

It didn't feel all that cold to me, though I did notice my nose was beginning to feel frosty. It was probably red, too. I hoped not; a Rudolph nose was definitely not endearing.

I slipped off my overcoat and stopped walking. Isabella looked confused at first, but that looked changed to one of immense gratefulness when I wrapped my wool coat around her shoulders. She nodded and a light smile lit up her face.

"All better?" I asked, smiling down at her as I continued walking.

"Much, thank you," she said smiling.

We walked in relative silence for awhile after that. The only conversation we held was about why I decided to work in Seattle and not somewhere else, like Los Angeles or New York where there were more people and more opportunities. I rambled on and on about how I'd grown accustomed to Seattle as a child and how I'd always loved the city. Isabella nodded and agreed that she'd always felt a pull to the city as well.

Finally, Isabella stopped at a large brick building with a rickety looking iron gate in front of it. I realized then that we'd been walking the complete opposite direction of my apartment and I mentally scolded myself for not paying attention. I attributed my lack of attention span to the beautiful creature standing next to me.

Isabella informed me that we'd reached her apartment and that she'd had a nice time with me tonight. I cringed internally when I realized this was the end of our night together. I didn't want to let her go because I was enjoying her presence immensely, but I reminded myself that I'd see her again in one short week, as I'd already set up our second meeting.

A week felt like too long, though. Isabella was comforting in the way she simply smiled and nodded as I talked and the way she looked like she was genuinely interested in the things I had to say. I acquiesced, though, and watched as she pushed open the wrought iron gate. She started to pull my overcoat from her shoulders, and without thinking, I reached up and stilled her soft little hand.

"You had a nice time, or you're having a nice time?" I asked, my hand still holding hers against her shoulder and my wool coat. "We could always keep walking." I smiled down at her and I caught the look of apprehension that crossed her face. It was probably a stupid thing to say, but I guess I'm known for speaking without thinking. My brain doesn't house a filter, apparently.

She sighed and the sound did strange things to my body. The urge to adjust myself in my pants came over me once again and I swallowed hard. Thankfully, Isabella didn't notice my discomfort.

"It's getting pretty late and Alice is probably wondering where the hell I am," she said. I liked to think I saw some disappointment in her when she turned down my request, but it was probably just my mind coming up with silly fantasies.

"Fair enough," I said in my most polite voice. I freed her hand from my grasp and continued pulling the coat from her shoulders. "No, no," I added before she could shrug off the coat. "You keep it. It's supposed to be freezing tomorrow."

She looked slightly taken aback at first, but before she could refuse, I took one of her hands in mine and cupped it in my palm. I brought it up to my mouth and placed a chaste kiss on the soft skin of her hand, allowing my lips to linger there for a moment longer than I should have.

"I had a wonderful time with you tonight, Miss Swan," I said before letting go of her hand. I nodded at her before turning swiftly and walking away, not waiting to see her reaction.

In my fucked up mind, I imagined her knees becoming weak and her eyes clouding over with a lusty, dazzled haze, but that was just me. I may be wealthy and successful, and I may own the most successful and thriving business in Seattle, but the art of seduction was still something I was working on.

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**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! And for all of you pervs (it's okay, I'm a perv, too) there will be smut next chapter, I promise! Review and tell me what you though. I'd really appreciate it! See you next Tuesday ;)**


	6. Chapter 5: Ignite

Disclaimer: Steph owns Twilight, but I own this.

**A/N: Thank you for all of your kind reviews. It really makes my day reading them. Also, thanks so much to all of the people who are alerting/favoriting this story. It warms me heart. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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**BPOV**

"Alice, you're not doing that right."

I walked over to Alice who was standing over top of the dishwasher with a perplexed look on her face. She had stacked the plates one on top of the other and had the cups lying flat. I loved Alice and all, but sometimes she could be downright infuriating when it came to common household chores.

"You do it, Bella!" she said, frustration clear in her voice. I nudged her out of the way playfully and she stood beside me, her brow furrowed.

"The plates go like this," I said as I started standing them upright. I put the cups upside down in their spot and closed the dishwasher, smiling at Alice.

"Show off," she muttered before wiping down the counter.

It had been nearly two weeks since my last encounter with Mr. Cullen at the diner. And in those two short weeks, it was a rarity for my mind to venture onto other topics other than him. I found myself constantly thinking about the words he'd spoken to me when the night had ended and the fact that his expensive-looking jacket still hung in my closet. It was all foreign to me and frankly, it scared me a little bit. I wasn't used to attention from men who seemed to have their lives together - not to mention guys who were so devastatingly gorgeous it rendered me speechless.

I had been awkward and shy when Mr. Cullen had taken me out to dinner. It wasn't unusual, of course, but I desperately wished I could have been more outgoing and friendly. Instead I sat in the diner's booth like a little lost puppy who had been taken away from its mother.

It was fucking embarrassing, thinking back to it.

And now I was faced with yet another dilemma - a dilemma directly concerning Mr. Cullen himself. It was the second of September now, which meant my second meeting with Mr. Cullen was tomorrow. I was nervous and skittish and I couldn't seem to come to terms with the fact that I'd see him face-to-face in less than twelve hours. My stomach churned at the notion.

"Bella?" I heard Alice ask over the screaming inside of my head.

I turned around and blinked a few times, willing myself to listen to whatever Alice had to say.

"What are you doing tomorrow? Because Jasper and I were planning on going shopping and I know you hate when I buy you things for your birthday but it's your 24th and I want to make it special! You can come with us and pick out anything you want! I promise I won't make a big spectacle of it! Please?" She smiled a toothy grin and gave me her best puppy-dog eyes.

The mention of Jasper made my thoughts wander back to Mr. Cullen and I looked away from Alice's pleading gaze. "I can't," I said. Alice's smile faltered and she sighed. She started to speak, but before she could get a word out, I said, "I have an appointment with Mr. Cullen."

I chanced another look up at her and I was sure her face would split with the size of her smile. She immediately started bouncing up and down, clapping her hands like a 5-year-old on their birthday. She was squealing as she bounced, but her words were lost on me. I instantly started dreading tomorrow even more. When I heard Alice say the word "outfit" I threw my hands up at her, telling her to calm the fuck down before she had a heart attack. She squealed one last time before she righted herself and put her hands at her sides, obviously fighting with herself to keep quiet.

"If I let you pick out my outfit, will you stop making such a big deal out of it?" I asked, eyeing her warily.

Another smile lit up her face and she nodded vigorously. But then her brows furrowed and she looked at me questioningly.

"Why don't you think this is a big deal, Bella?" she asked.

I sighed.

"Because nothing is going to happen between Mr. Cullen and I," I replied.

Alice scoffed. "You're so pessimistic. He took you out for dinner, Bells! That has to count for _something_."

I didn't even allow myself to consider this. "He knocked me on my ass; he was just trying to be nice," I countered.

"You don't want to get your hopes up."

It wasn't a question. I sometimes hated the way Alice could read me without even trying. She may be flighty and a little over-exuberant, but she was intuitive - much too intuitive sometimes. She walked over to me and put her tiny little hand on my shoulder, looking me straight in the eyes.

"You are a beautiful, talented young woman. You have outstanding morals and you're one of the smartest people I've ever known." She proceeded to throw her arms around my neck and squeeze me. "Edward Cullen would be lucky to have someone like you in his life," she finished, pulling away from me.

I sighed. "Thank you, Alice."

She smiled and clapped her hands together, effectively ending her impromptu love fest. "So," she said, eyeing me scrupulously and walking around me. I could feel her eyes on me and it was making me a little uncomfortable. "About that outfit…"

…

"Alice, this does _not _fit me!" I complained as I stared at myself in Alice's large, gilded mirror.

Alice had decided that since I wasn't going to make a big deal about my meeting with Mr. Cullen, she was allowed to. She called our friend Rose - who was also my agent - and proceeded to dress me up for hours upon end while Rose sat back and watched. I was currently in a skin-tight black dress and a pair of high heels that would no doubt be the death of me. Alice had looked absolutely thrilled when I walked out of her massive walk-in closet, but I shot down her excitement immediately.

"It does fit you!" she argued. "You need to learn that beauty is pain, sister!" She patted my ribcage for emphasis.

I looked at Rose pleadingly only to realize she was eyeing the dress and smirking deviously.

"Please, Rose, help me!" I squeaked as Alice pulled my hair down out of my ponytail and let it cascade down my back and around my shoulders. She stepped back and crossed her arms, looking at me like I was a work of art she'd just completed.

"Perfect!" she declared, giggling.

I looked at myself in the mirror again and although the dress was beautiful and the heels made my legs look infinitely longer, I couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy.

"It's inappropriate," I decided, still eyeing myself carefully.

_Inappropriate, maybe, but your boobs look great_, I thought to myself. _Hmm…_

"Oh, hush! We're talking about a meeting with Edward fucking Cullen here, Bella! You need to make a good… umm… third impression!"

She stood beside me and looked at us in the mirror, that satisfied smile still present on her lips. "And do you want to know what impression you're gonna make tomorrow?"

I could see Rose through the mirror and she looked almost as excited as Alice. It made me crack a small smile, causing Alice to be nearly overjoyed. She giggled and declared, "That man is gonna cum in his fucking pants!"

I blushed crimson and dropped my head, trying to conceal the wide smile that was now very present on my face, along with Alice and Rose's.

After our marathon of trying on dress after dress and eventually deciding on the skin-tight black one, Alice thought it best for us to put in a movie and have an official girls' night. It hadn't happened in a long time as Alice was always busy with Jasper and Rose had a huge workload, so we all felt it would be a good thing.

We all changed into pajamas and sat on the couch, a huge bowl of microwave popcorn in between us. Alice turned the DVD on and I soon found myself laughing jovially and partaking in a real, genuine boy-talk with Alice and Rose. Alice rambled on and on about her relationship with Jasper and although it made me think of Mr. Cullen the entire time, I was truly happy for her. I didn't know this Jasper man very well, but he seemed nice enough, and if Alice was happy, I was happy.

Rose informed us that she'd just started dating again after a nasty break-up with her boyfriend of four years, Royce, and that she was happy to be playing the field.

The credits on the DVD began rolling, but Alice informed us that we weren't done with girls' night yet. She got up and popped another DVD in, one I didn't recognize. Conversation ceased as we watched the movie, all of us enthralled by it. I started getting tired about halfway through the movie, but I willed myself to stay awake so I would have time to get prepared for my meeting tomorrow. I still needed to print off another manuscript in case Mr. Cullen wanted to go through it with me tomorrow.

But, before I could even control it, my eyes began closing and I was soon under a deep shroud of sleep, a pair of green eyes staring back into mine from behind my eyelids.

…

My eyes shot open and I jumped off of the couch in a flash. My eyes began darting around the room confusedly until they landed on the clock in the hallway.

"Shit!" I screamed as I realized I only had twenty minutes to get ready for my meeting with Mr. Cullen.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me and flung open Alice's bedroom door, running straight for her closet. I heard her stirring in bed, but I couldn't be bothered to acknowledge her. I grabbed the dress and the shoes and flew back into the living room, stripping right in the middle of it. I squeezed myself into the dress and grabbed put my shoes on. When I attempted to run again, the horrific shoes Alice had coerced me into wearing betrayed me and I landed flat on my face just outside of my bedroom door.

I groaned and stood up, only to be faced with a very amused-looking Rose who was sprawled out across my bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" she laughed.

"I'm late!" I squealed, rushing to my bathroom.

I brushed my teeth quickly and took my hair out of the ponytail. It was a mess, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I put a layer of mascara on each of my eyes and stole a quick glance at myself in the mirror. Alice definitely wouldn't approve, but it was going to have to do.

I walked back into my bedroom and noticed Rose was sitting up in bed now.

"Rose!" I said as I threw my cell phone and my laptop into my messenger bag. "Can you drive me to Mr. Cullen's office? I don't have time to walk."

Rose agreed with a laugh and shortly after that I was walking through the front doors of Cullen Enterprises. I thanked the good lord above that it wasn't raining as I walked to the front desk. I was greeted coolly by the secretary named Gianna, who informed me that Mr. Cullen was running late today. I once again had a reason to thank the good lord. Gianna told me to take a seat in the waiting area and I obliged, taking this opportunity to open my laptop and take a look through my files.

But, before I even got seated, I caught a glimpse of Jasper in my periphery. He was standing just out of eyeshot from Gianna, my view of him obstructed by a large wooden door. He was waving at me, a sweet smile on his face. I nodded to him and gave him a small wave back before once again moving to sit down.

"Isabella!" I heard him call just as I was about to take a seat. I glanced up at him just in time to see Gianna give him a sour look, her nose crinkling up, making her look like a constipated pig. I stifled a giggle at her expression and then turned my attention back to Jasper.

He was walking toward me and for some reason, this made me incredibly nervous. I almost immediately started wringing my hands and staring down at the floor. When he finally made it across the large waiting room, he extended his hand for me the shake. I took his hand in mine timidly, trying fruitlessly to stave off my nervousness.

"How are you?" Jasper asked with a smile, letting go of my hand.

"Nervous," I blurted out, regretting it instantly.

Jasper seemed to understand as he just shook his head and smiled at me. I tried to smile back, but it faltered as my eyes wandered from Jasper's compassionate face to the doorway behind him. There stood Mr. Cullen in all of his bronze-haired, green-eyed glory. He put a large stack of papers on Gianna's desk, saying a few words to her, before turning around and leaving just as quickly as he'd came.

"Let's get this show on the road!" Jasper said, extending his arm as a way of telling me to go ahead.

I swallowed thickly and willed my feet to move forward.

The walk to Mr. Cullen's office allowed me some time to get my thoughts in check, so by the time Jasper and I reached his door, I felt like I might actually be able to stand on my own two feet when we came face-to-face once again. Jasper opened the door and poked his head in, informing Mr. Cullen that his nine o'clock was here.

Jasper ushered me in immediately and disappeared back through the door. I had the fleeting feeling that I should just walk back out and follow Jasper, but I was here now and there was nothing I could do. I stood timidly in the middle of Mr. Cullen's office, waiting for him to finish whatever the hell he was doing. He had his back to me and was shuffling through a filing cabinet, grumbling out words I couldn't understand.

Without turning around to face me, he said, "Sit down, Isabella."

I obliged hesitantly and instantly began sweating. His voice wasn't cold or steely, but it definitely wasn't friendly either. It put me on edge and I couldn't stop the nerves from filtering back in. Mr. Cullen turned around then and took a seat behind his desk. He pulled my manuscript from his desk and sat it in front of him. But, instead of opening it up and beginning the meeting like I'd expected him to do, he used two long fingers to push the manuscript across his desk to take residence in front of me. I looked at him confusedly, but his eyes drifted away from mine immediately.

"Isabella, I took a look through your entire manuscript and I regret to inform you that I made a mistake when I asked you to come here again."

My heart fell into my stomach the moment he uttered those words.

It was over.

I'd gotten my hopes up for nothing yet again.

Tears began to sting my eyes, but I fought them back. This wasn't the time for me to look weak. I could cry to Alice when I got home, but not here. Not in from of him.

I could barely hear what Mr. Cullen said next through the sound of blood rushing through my ears.

"I understand that I may have inconvenienced you by asking you to come down here today, and I apologize for that." He drummed his fingers against his desk before nodding. "You are free to leave now, Miss Swan."

I couldn't control my reaction to Mr. Cullen's words and anger flared up within me almost instantly. How dare he bring me down here only to shoot me down like everyone else? Couldn't he have done that over the phone? I probably looked like a bull ready to charge as I stood up to my full height - accentuated by the ridiculously high heels - and sneered down at Mr. Cullen. My cheeks were flushed red and my ears were burning.

I was fucking fuming.

"How dare you?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Was it too fucking difficult for you to make a goddamn phone call and tell me you were rejecting me?"

Mr. Cullen stood up from his chair and started to say something, but I cut him off before he could speak.

"You're nothing but a hedonistic asshole who gets off on crushing people's dreams; I can see it in your eyes." I walked over to the door of Mr. Cullen's office, preparing to leave. But, before I could get my hand on the doorknob, a smooth, strong hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

Suddenly, and very unexpectedly, Mr. Cullen had me pinned against the oak paneled wall with his sweet, intoxicating breath mere inches from my flushed face. His hands ventured to my sides and held me there, his breath now coming in hard pants.

When he spoke, his voice was fervent and warm against my skin. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he whispered, his head moving down so his lips were pressed against my ear. "I want nothing more than to work with you." His tongue peeked out and slid across the shell of my ear, causing my entire body to shiver and erupt in goosebumps.

"Mr. Cullen…," I whispered, my hands grasping his wrists, attempting to loosen his grip on me. I'll admit my attempt was weak, because the feel of his strong hands on my waist was doing amazing things to my body.

He inhaled deeply and pressed his soft lips to my neck.

"Isabella," he breathed against my skin. My entire body ignited in that moment and I felt myself begin breathing extraordinarily heavy. Mr. Cullen seemed almost animalistic with lust when he felt my reaction to his touch. His hands traveled from my waist up to my neck, his hands ghosting over my breasts for an instant.

Then, before I could even think of what I was doing, I fisted my hands into his mop of unruly bronze hair and brought his face to mine, our lips colliding instantly as he pressed his body - and his very prominent arousal - against me.

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**A/N: I'm not sure if I can really call this a 'warning', but there will be smut in the next chapter. And it will be EPOV. ;) Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 6: What the Fuck?

Disclaimer: Steph owns Twilight, but I own this.

**A/N: Hi, guys! Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter. They make me so happy. :) I also noticed that I made a mistake in the last chapter. Alice says she wants to go shopping for Bella's 24th birthday, when really it's Bella's _22nd _birthday. I will go back and change it as soon as I post this. Just wanted to clear that up!**

**Also, this is a little shorter than I'd intended, I'm sorry. Enjoy, though!**

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**EPOV**

Bella's manuscript was fucking spellbinding. Enthralling. Brilliant.

Fucking _epic_.

And that is exactly why I couldn't publish it.

This person, this amazing, enchanting girl who walked into my office a few short weeks ago already had an irreversible effect on me, an effect that I simply couldn't ignore. If I ever had a chance of knowing her on a level that didn't involve work, publishing her story would be the worst thing I could possibly do.

What happens if things didn't work out between us romantically?

What happens if her novel becomes a nationwide success and the rumour mill starts spewing stories about a relationship?

It had the potential of ruining both my solidified career and her budding one.

It was incredibly selfish, I knew, but I couldn't stand to sit back and ignore my feelings for her, and I definitely couldn't sabotage her potential career. So I did the only thing I felt was appropriate.

I rejected her.

And that's when the sparks flew. She was so riled up, so incredibly beautiful in the way she flew off the handle, spewing filthy words - true words - into my face when I told her she was free to leave. I probably should have been angry with her for flying off the handle in my own office, but all I could focus on was her beauty and the amazing things it was doing to my groin. I wished I could have told her it was for her own benefit and that I would send her manuscript to another publisher with the promise of acceptance. But watching her mouth set into a hard line and listening to those strong, powerful words come from her mouth, I couldn't stop myself.

I pushed her up against my paneled walls and assaulted her glistening, soft skin with my mouth. She was putty in my hands as I caressed her through her silky black dress. Her breath hitched in her throat and her entire body wilted into my gentle yet powerful touch.

I was whispering into her ear and I could feel the gooseflesh rise on her heated skin. The way our bodies were connected was doing amazing things to me, which spurred on a rather quick erection. I tried to conceal it as best as I could, but when I felt her silky little hands in my hair, I pressed myself against her, seeking some form of release from the throbbing in my groin.

She groaned into my mouth and I nearly came in my pants when I heard it. Her voice was breathless and needy as she wrapped herself around me, and I had the sudden urge to rip the black silk from her body and let her lay bare beneath me on my plush carpeted floor.

"Isabella," I murmured into her mouth.

Her entire body went rigid as I pressed my throbbing dick against her once again. It was impossible for me to hide the grin that formed on my lips when I felt her soft, milky leg come up to hitch around my waist. I released my hand from her side and let my fingers travel up from her ankle to behind her knee, lifting it up even more, fucking rejoicing as I felt myself press against her center. I watched as the dress rode up, exposing her perfect thigh.

I wanted to lick it.

"Mr. Cullen," she whimpered as I assaulted her mouth with mine once again. "Should we…?" she tried to say between my fervent, insatiable kisses.

I moaned when I felt her hands tug at my unruly hair. "Of course we should," I whispered against her swollen lips.

My hand made its pass back down her smooth leg again, but this time I stopped, my mind jumbled as I battled with what I should do. I knew what I _wanted _to do, that was for sure, but I was hesitant and wanted to make sure Isabella wanted to same thing. Slowly and timidly, I let my hand wander up her thigh, my fingers peeking underneath the hem of her dress. I looked into her eyes as I continued my pursuit, my eyes nearly imploring her to let me continue.

She nodded fervently and all hesitation flew out the window. I had my palm pressed flush against her slick wetness, and I'm pretty sure my dick fucking whimpered for release when I found that she had no panties on. I rubbed slow circles against her with my palm, my mouth moving down to her neck to suck and lick and kiss. She was moaning, her head buried in my shoulder as her nails dug painfully into my scalp.

The pain only spurred me on further, though, and soon she was bucking against my hips, her own release imminent while I fought with the urge to cum in my fucking pants.

Just then, much to my chagrin, I saw my office door fly open, a gasp sounding almost instantly. I quickly disentangled myself from Isabella, cursing under my breath and immediately turning a bright shade of crimson. Getting caught in a compromising position was one thing, but getting caught by Jasper was another thing entirely. I watched as Isabella pulled down her dress hastily, her cheeks also flushed a deep pink. Her hair was everywhere - I assumed from my hands - and her skin was glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths and I discreetly adjusted myself before Jasper caught sight of my enormous hard on.

She looked fucking stunning as she stood biting her lip, looking torn between either collapsing on the carpet or bolting for the door.

Jasper was the first to speak.

"Dude, I am _so _fucking sorry," he breathed, his wide eyes darting back and forth between Isabella and I.

I was surprised Jasper didn't make a huge spectacle about catching us. I was thankful, of course, but mostly surprised.

"Out. Now," I ordered, pointing toward the door.

He sighed, averting his eyes down to the floor.

"I really wish I could, trust me," he said. My anger flared and I was about two seconds from _forcing _his ass back out the door. But, before I could, he spoke quickly, "Your next appointment is here and the waiting area is full and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

I huffed, annoyed and really fucking horny. Fucking Jasper…

"I will call Gianna, Jasper," I said, glaring at him. "Now please do me a favour and get the fuck _out._"

He paused for a second before he caught a glimpse of the murderous stare I was giving him. Nodding, he scuttled out the door like a dog with its tail between its legs.

I turned back to Isabella who was chewing on that glorious bottom lip. Although I wanted nothing more than to continue where we'd left off, there seemed to be some sort of tension between us. She looked almost scared, standing there sawing her lip between her teeth. And then I realized that she probably was. I had just pinned her against the wall after telling her that she'd been rejected yet again.

_But she let you rub her pussy; that has to count for something_, I reasoned with myself.

I walked over to her and placed my hands on either side of her head. She was still pressed against the wall, which was good for me, because as my hands came in contact with the wall, it left very little space between us. Her breathing accelerated immediately and for some sordid reason, that made my dick jerk. I smiled down at her, doing a pretty good job at hiding my apprehension.

I opened my mouth to speak, but her soft voice spoke first, catching me off guard.

"Why aren't you publishing my book?" she asked, her voice sounding small and dejected.

I closed my eyes and removed my hands from the wall, debating whether I should just come out and tell her the truth, or if I should keep my intentions hidden. I opened my eyes and looked into hers, seeing just how sad she looked. It hurt me to see such a beautiful creature look so goddamn unhappy.

"Isabella…," I started, but she cut me off.

"The truth," she whispered. "No beating around the bush."

I sighed, long and deep, considering her demand.

If I told her I wasn't planning on publishing her book because I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with her, she would probably think that was creepy. And she'd probably think I was jumping the gun. I mean, shouldn't I consult with her first before just presuming that she'd want anything to do with me? Maybe she already has a boyfriend and simply felt pressured into doing… _that_… with me.

I continued to come up with various different evasion tactics I could use when I heard Isabella clear her throat. When I looked down at her, she had the most adorable expression on her face. Her eyebrow was quirked and her lips were pursed. She was waiting for an answer.

I walked over to my desk and leafed through her manuscript, looking for a specific page. Isabella huffed and clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, looking extremely annoyed, before walking over and standing across from me. I found the page I was looking for and slid the manuscript over to her.

She looked down at the page, her brow furrowed. I knew the exact moment when she read the notes I'd written because her eyes were suddenly alight and her cheeks were flushed crimson. She smiled up at me and the happiness in that smile made my chest swell with… something. I couldn't put my finger on what exactly it was.

"You think I'm… brilliant?" she asked, utterly incredulous.

I nodded, smiling back at her. "Isabella, I can honestly say that this manuscript is one of the best I've ever read. Your writing is intriguing and you've really written a beautiful story."

She looked so goddamn happy as she listened to my words. Her eyes lit up and her entire body seemed to thrum with happiness. Suddenly her arms were around my neck and she was hugging me, telling me without words how thankful she was. I imagined she'd never heard or read words like the ones I'd said and written when it came to her novel, and that made that odd swelling feeling intensify in my chest. I hugged her back weakly for a moment before she let go, still looking happy even through the slight embarrassment I detected through the pinkness in her cheeks.

And that's when I decided.

I didn't care if the situation we'd - well, _I'd _- have to face made things difficult. We would overcome it. I would be the driving force behind her novel's publication, and if a bond between us formed in the duration, so be it. We'd work it out. I'd find a way to balance work and Isabella. Because although I've only known this girl for a few weeks, she has a hold on me; a hold nobody else has ever had the strength to maintain.

I didn't know where to classify the feelings I had for this girl, but I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to get to know her - to really figure out this perplexing little person. She was beautiful, sure, but I could tell from the way she wrote and the way she carried herself that there was so much more behind her pretty face.

She was an enigma that I was going to figure out, if it was the last thing I did.

"Isabella, I can honestly say that I'd be honoured to publish your novel," I whispered, moving so my face was mere inches from hers.

Her breathing quickened and that same radiant smile appeared on her face. But, before I could truly have time to enjoy the beauty of it, the smile faltered and a look of worry took over her features. She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wondering aloud, "What's the catch?"

I chuckled and skimmed her cheek with the back of my fingers. "No catch," I promised. I winked at her, quirking a brow as I whispered, "As long as I get to do this…"

I pressed my hand against Isabella's hip, letting it travel all the way up to cup her ample breast. I squeezed it gently before pressing my lips to her neck hungrily.

I thought her hands had moved to my chest because she was turned on, but suddenly she pushed me away forcefully, a look of unadulterated disgust on her face. She scoffed at me and gathered together her belongings. I stood back looking completely horrified and more than a little bit embarrassed.

_What the fuck?_

Isabella swung the door to my office open, her cheeks red and her hands wringing at her sides. "I am nothere to be somebody's… _plaything_," she seethed, walking out and slamming the door closed behind her.

* * *

**A/N: Oooh, cliffhanger. Kinda. *snort* Sorry. I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear what ya'll think is gonna happen. Include that in your review, if you're so inclined. Thanks for reading! **


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